


Lucid Nightmares

by Sssofaaa



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: DREAMON AU, Dream Apologist, Dream is actually just a very angsty boi, DreamSMP - Freeform, Dreamon, Gen, Minecraft, Nightmare, TommyInnit - Freeform, dream - Freeform, georgenotfound - Freeform, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sssofaaa/pseuds/Sssofaaa
Summary: Dream SMP fanfiction - Dreamon AU (Basically the canon events on the SMP but from Dream's POV)-----------All ideas of violence fled Dream’s mind as he stared up at the shadow from his sprawled position on the marble floor. The darkness must have known exactly what Dream’s thoughts gravitated to because he smiled, sweet and sharp as the scent of slowly decaying fruit.“You’re a monster”, Dream spat."No," his smile was predatory. His next words were quiet, but they rang crystal clear in the great hall."I’m your worst Nightmare. "-----------
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	1. Reflection

Dream’s footsteps crunched on the late fall leaves, a quiet testament of the long trek ahead of him. He felt his feet move under him and watched his armored body shove past bushes and weave around tree trunks easily, dimly aware of the quiet chirping of the birds and the last gentle rays of the sun caressing the landscape. Yet the only thing he saw was Tommy’s eyes as he watched his home being destroyed.

It had been easy. Almost too easy, in fact. A few pieces of TNT and Logstead had been nothing more than a cemetery of burning wood. He remembered the savage delight that had coursed through his heart as he set the match on the final explosive and Tommy’s silence as his home was taken from him once again. _It_ whispered to him, egging him on, moving his body forward when he refused to do it himself. The sensation was terrifying, a cold hand firmly wrapped around his heart, pushing aside his willpower as if it were little more than dust blowing in the wind.

_“_ Dream… w-why…?” The light in Tommy’s eyes had faded, hopelessness flooding his seemingly unbreakable spirit. Dream felt a sneer reach his lips. His feeble attempt at keeping his mouth shut quickly failed as he stared at Tommy’s expression.

“Tommy…” he was sure the boy could hear the smile on his lips, pride flooding every cell of his body. “I told you. I warned you not to lie to me and you didn’t listen. You brought this on yourself, Tommy. You betrayed _me.”_

_“_ I’m- I’m so sorry Dream, please I-“, Tommy’s voice had started breaking and the glistening in his eyes threatened to spill over, forming salty rivers over his red cheeks.

Dream wanted to scream. He wanted to walk up to Tommy and force him to snap back, say something, _do_ something, ANYTHING. He felt the voice silently chuckle at his ridiculous thoughts, taking control of his body and entering the dark forest behind him. As the darkness of the woods enveloped him, he felt the cold grip around his heart loosen just enough to let tears peak at the corners of his eyes and wash away the cold sweat clinging to his own face.

For the millionth time that month he wished he would black out instead. Be blissfully unaware of the expressions on the faces of every single person he broke, instead of having to watch their faces fall, shatter into a million pieces as they struggled to reconstruct themselves. He knew those faces would haunt him until until the ends of time, but the alternative… the consequence of refusing to comply… it was unthinkable.

The further he walked from the smoldering wreck that had been the center of Tommy’s life the past few weeks, the more in control he was of his own body. He flexed his fingers one by one and reveled in the feeling of being in charge of his movements again. He stiffly reached up to touch the heavy clay mask on his face. What a cruel joke; hiding his face to mask expressions he wasn’t even in control of. He could feel a shiver caressing the back of his mind, warning him to keep moving, lest he wished to once again relinquish the little freedom granted to him. Dream walked faster.

It would take him a few hours to reach the mountain he dwelled in. The gripping control over his body had dragged him halfway across the world before letting him set up a base, isolating him from anyone who might catch on to what was really happening to Dream. The sultry voice had laughed, watched, as Dream worked through the night for days at a time to construct a palace fit for a god. Or, Dream supposed, a demon. The only moments of solace he had were in the Nether. Only in those moments did he finally feel the hand fully unravel from around his heart, wandering off to bask in the heat and glow of the lava as Dream placed bed after bed deep underground. He had grown to love those hours, see them as a salvation. The irony didn’t escape him; the best moments of his life were in hell. A fitting punishment for an immortal.

He had given a substantial amount of thought to his newfound loss of mortality. He felt stronger, his soul no longer purely his own but rather intertwined with that perpetual, unnatural darkness that had crawled its way into him. When he wasn’t thinking about his endless existence however, his mind gravitated to the compass. It had seemed to glow with heavenly light the day he found it in the nether. It seemed to have a life of its own, pointing towards an unexplored area of the nether. It whispered and beckoned him and he drew closer to the artifact, his natural curiosity egging him on, desperate to know how a compass was pointing anywhere at all in the hell dimension. The glass pane had been broken and he remembered picking it up and examining it. The metal had been unnaturally cold in the blistering heat of the pools of lava around him. His fingers had gingerly caressed over the base of the needle and finally, reached the point. A single drop of blood had fallen from his finger as he cut himself on the surprisingly sharp point, indistinguishable from the red earth as it hit the ground. For a moment, the stifling heat in the air had seemed to still. Everything around him held its breath, watching, waiting for…

As Dream’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a freezing shard of ice pierced his heart. Darkness exploded through his veins, sparking lightning in his nerves, and stealing his vision for a moment. It fused with his soul and claimed him as its own, burning the life out of him. He barely remembered falling to his knees, screaming and clutching his chest, as the pain swam through him.

It stopped almost as quickly as it had started, the only testament of the event a quiet whisper at the back of his head and a shiver slithering its way up his spine. The compass lay broken a few feet away, limp and fragile, its glowing aura long gone.

_Almost as broken as I feel now_ , Dream thought bitterly as he pushed aside the last few leaves before stepping out into a clearing with a giant mountain looming above him. He crossed the field towards the base of the mountain, becoming aware of how dark the night had gotten around him. He cast a glance at the sky and found no moon shining back down on him. The darkness in him reveled in the lack of illumination, purring with quiet delight.

The terrain turned rocky as he walked up to the vast wall of granite standing tall above him, displaying a quiet strength he had always admired. A tug urged him on, a reminder of the impatience of the force looming inside him. Slowly, he raised his arm to press his hand to the cold wall of the mountain. A tingling ran through his arm and he heard a low rumble sounding through the mountain as the slab of rock began to split open before him. The cold soothed his fingers and he hesitated before removing his hand from the wall. It had only been a second but already a searing pain pierced his chest, punishing him for his slowness. It did however nothing to speed Dream’s movements as he watched the giant wall turn into a large opening, 2 stories tall, revealing a great hallway beyond.

Dream felt like he was walking though mud as he crossed the threshold of his residence, the mountain rumbling once again as the door slowly shut behind him, having served its purpose. Not a second later, Dream crashed to the ground, crying out from the ghastly tearing pain that ripped through him as the darkness left its perch on his heart and corporealized from the shadows in front of him.

The figure straightened and stretched its long arms over its head, a cat waking from a pleasant nap. A cloak materialized around its shoulders, comprised of velvety darkness, framing a muscular body that was the mirror image of Dream’s. He drove a hand through his inky black hair before turning to Dream’s writhing body on the floor. The black mask on his face taunted Dream’s white one with cruel malice, a reminder of how similar they really were.

Shaking all over, Dream pushed himself to his feet with more effort than he liked to admit. He dragged his hood down from his head and barely stopped to unfasten the delicate ribbon tightened around his head before tearing the white mask from his face. It clattered to the cold marble floor noisily, echoing down the lengthy hallway. The candles on the walls flickered silently.

_Tsk, how pouty we are today,_ the figure said with mock hurt. _I almost believe you didn’t enjoy it._

He unfastened his own mask and Dream stared into the dark eyes trained on him. The shadow had an ethereal look to him, the skin of his face a pearly white which faded to smoky black further down along his arms and legs. He was all hard angles and planes, sharp enough to cut with a glance. Dream could feel the arrogance and pride emanating from him and winced, realizing how many times people must have thought the same about him.

Dream took a moment before he answered, knowing his voice would betray him if he spoke too quickly.

“That was too far.”, his tone was low and with a jolt of surprise Dream realized his voice didn’t shake. “You _know_ Tommy didn’t deserve that.”

With a sly grin, the shadow turned and began walking down the hallway.

_But it was so fun,_ he laughed, barely bothering to look at him.

When Dream didn’t follow, the figure raised a hand and flicked it forward without turning around. Dream was instantly lifted off the ground and thrown down the length of the hallway. He barely felt physical pain anymore, but the figure was not aiming to injure Dream physically. He never ceased to remind him he was nothing more than a vessel, blessed enough to be inhabited by a creature such as him.

Crouched on the ground, Dream seriously contemplated drawing his axe and lunging towards the creature in front of him. To be fair, he had before. But how can one kill something made of nothing? He had even gone so far as to attempt to end it all in a much different way.

It had been the day he forced Tommy into exile. He hadn’t been sure why that had been his breaking point, given how long his life had been stuck in a hell loop, but it was. He remembered the cool wind whipping at his hair as he had stood at the top of the mountain, looking out from an elegant stone balcony carved into the rock. His water bucket had been quietly sitting in the storage room a few floors below, forgotten. He had stepped onto the edge and peered below, seeing only darkness, and desperately longed for it. If this was the price he had to pay to save the server he would do so gladly. He had taken a shuddering breath and looked up, training his shining eyes on the stars to give him the strength to-

_My, my what have we here?_

Dream had winced so hard he had almost fallen off right then and there. Panic had seized him as he expected the figure to lunge for him, stop him from ending their partnership once and for all. The shadow had simply regarded him with faint amusement and sauntered onto the balcony, its onyx eyes drowning the starlight.

_Oh goodness me, please don’t let me stop you._ Those black eyes twinkled with delight.

_Do it._

A sick feeling had overcome Dream. If he had learned anything from these months with his host, it was that he didn’t bluff. He didn’t need to.

Mostly out of spite, Dream had jumped anyway. As he reached the bottom of the mountain he was barely surprised when the ground broke beneath him. After a dazed moment he stood, looking at the giant crater the impact of his body had left in the ground. There had not been a scratch on his body.

_P_ _LEASE don’t tell me you expected that to do something._ The shadow cackled with delight from behind him, voice dripping with condescension. The darkness’s eyes had raked up and down his body before loftily fading back into the shadows, off to concoct whatever horrible little plan delighted him next.

Knives, potions, TNT, 25 minecarts in a particularly uncomfortable small space… Dream had spent the next few weeks trying it all. He started feeling pity for whoever tried to kill him next on the server, and slowly realized the only pity he should feel was towards himself.

In the end though, none of it mattered. Even if there was a way to rid the world of their unholy alliance, the shadow controlled him fully with one small failsafe he had acquired weeks before. Had it not haunted Dream’s nights and made him sick to his stomach at the mere mention of it, he would have admired the cleverness of his guest’s plan.

All ideas of violence fled Dream’s mind as he stared up at the shadow from his sprawled position on the marble floor. The darkness must have known exactly what Dream’s thoughts gravitated to because he smiled, sweet and sharp as the scent of of slowly decaying fruit.

_Even now._ His smile cracked into something more. A laugh haunted the halls of the mountain. _Even after destroying your friends one by one, all you can think about is him._

Dream looked away, face burning with anger and shame. Maybe he did deserve this.

The shadow began sauntering further down the hall, headed towards the grand staircase sitting at the end of the hall.

“You’re a monster”, Dream spat.

_No,_ his smile was predatory. His next words were quiet, but they rang crystal clear in the great hall.

_I’m your worst Nightmare._


	2. Eternal Sleep

Shivering and drenched in sweat, Dream slowly stood from his place on the floor. Face to face encounters with Nightmare always left him feeling empty, like his insides had been scooped out and presented on a gilded platter for the world to see. He knew where Night was going and part of him was desperate to follow. Climb to the very top of the mountain lair and take a quick peek, just to make sure-

But he knew his trembling body did not have the strength to climb 20 flights of stairs, and the sight of what resided at the top would probably forcibly expel what little he had eaten that morning anyway.

Dream’s gaze fell downwards and he caught sight of the black axe in his hands. He didn’t even remember grabbing it. It glowed with purple tendrils of strength and sharpness enhancements, glistening from blade to hilt. He dimly remembered the first time he had ever held an axe, feeling the balanced weight of it cut through the air and hit a tree. It had always been his favorite, even when everyone around him gravitated towards swords, he had always loved how powerful his hits felt. Every swing carried intention and planning, carefully spaced out to accumulate power.

With an easy upwards stroke, Dream swung the axe through the air over his shoulder and sheathed it, feeling the heavy weight of the weapon settle comfortably on his back. The hardness of the cold metal hilt dug into his back and he straightened ever so slightly, his gaze lifting to the ceiling. He really had outdone himself in those long nights of carving.

The ceiling had grooves and patterns fashioned from the stone of the mountain that spoke of fortitude and strength, swirling gently between the arches that held the room up. Sharp symbols littered the patterns every so often, teasing his eyes. He didn’t remember carving them, and they didn’t belong to any language he could read, but he understood them nonetheless. They were signatures, names, promises, hopes, dreams… nightmares. They spoke _through_ him rather than _at_ him and he knew they were not meant for him, but for his darker counterpart.

During the long summer nights they had been forced to spend together, Dream had often tried to learn about Nightmare’s past. Pry even the slightest smidge of information from his mind. His shadow could read him, so why couldn’t it go both ways? Yet every time he tried to reach across through the tether that bound them together, a cold marble wall slammed down in front of him, usually eliciting a sneer or eye-roll from Nightmare. A sharp shard of ice would thereafter inevitably lash out at his open mind, reminding him to not step out of line again.

After a while, Dream realized there were certain things he could hide too. Construct his own palace of ice and marble and shield his mind from unwanted attention. It had started with small things like locations of prized possessions, and thoughts of revolution that would normally be struck down with a bolt of lightning through his nerves. Later on, he discovered obsidian constructed a physical barrier between them as well, numbing the pathway between their minds until it was little more than a foggy road on a moonless night.

Smuggling in materials under the cover of darkness had not been easy, but after a few weeks, Dream had constructed a small room in the deepest corner of the mountain, lined with obsidian and filled to the brim with maps, books, and weapons. There he spent the majority of his nights, fueled by desperation and hatred, pouring over ancient scriptures, translating languages he had never even heard of and desperately hoping for a way to sever the tie that had ended his mortal life and begun his infinite one. Part of him half expected Nightmare to simply materialize in front of him from the shadows lining the dark purple walls and shatter his mind into a million shards, but he knew it didn’t make any sense. If he couldn’t feel Night, the shadow shouldn’t be able to feel him either… right?

Filled with the growing restlessness that always creeped in when heading to his sanctuary, Dream left the emptiness of the Great Hall and began descending the stairs towards the basement. In truth, “basement” was a pretty generous term for the vast expanse of tunnels that resided below the main floors of the Mountain Palace. God forbid his demon roommate didn’t have a dungeon in his lair.

It had everything from torture chambers, to strange locked doors from which emanated strangled and deranged wails. He had no idea what kind of creatures would even make such sounds. He felt no shame in admitting he hoped he’d never find out.

The winding labyrinth had been confusing to carve out of the mountain, much less navigate it in the dark, but he had gotten used to he way the marks in the stone felt under his hands and recognized his way through the maze easily now.

After a few minutes of winding around corners and skillfully avoiding dead ends, he reached a small cellar for storing ale. The stench of decaying fruit may hold the sweet promise of future inebriation, but it also provided Nightmare with an extra reason to stay away in the weeks before it was taken out of the fermenting barrels. It certainly did not, however, render concocting plans any easier, and Dream often hated himself for taking so many extra precautions.

Quickly sliding aside one of the shelves, he slipped into the obsidian bubble and felt the tether in his chest lax ever so slightly. He hesitated for a moment and looked around the room.

Papers were strewn across the floor, texts in a hundred different languages scrawled across them. Annotations were roughly scrubbed in the margins, question marks sketched in frustration around words, ideas and most pictures. Light blue torches glowed in their holders on the walls, the light glinting off of weapons scattered across the room, after being roughly tossed aside when Dream deemed them useless. A table took up the majority of the space, mostly covered my maps of the SMP, marking important locations where Night might be planning attacks next and where the damage had already been done. The biggest map of them all, however, hung on the wall opposite him. Day after day, the ugly red “X”s drawn on the territory increased in number, until the day when the map would be dripping in red and he would have nothing left to lose.

Dream made his way over to the vast expanse of canvas and gazed at it numbly. He reached behind him without looking, feeling for the red marker with his fingers, closing around it and tearing the cap off with more force than necessary. It tumbled to the ground, forgotten.

With shaking fingers he drew a large _X_ across a circle on the map hastily labeled _Logstead_.

_“Dr-Dream… Why? I-I’m sorry, I promise I won’t ever-“_

Dream’s hands went slack around the marker and it smeared across the map, eventually tumbling to the ground alongside the cap. An ugly red smear marred the territory just below where Logstead had once been.

_“I did everything you asked.”_

Dream squeezed his eyes so tight he saw stars and began swaying on his feet. He placed a hand on the table behind him which creaked under the weight. The sleep deprivation was definitely not helping. Before he could let himself remember how starkly Tommy’s eyes had reflected the light of burning stripped logs, he stumbled to the other end of the room and picked up a pearl-hilted knife. The cool surface grounded him as he tightened his hand around the hilt, eyes closing once more. Still unstable on his feet, he pulled out the old chair from under his desk and sank into it, the support under him swaying unsteadily.

It had been his first real hunting knife, given to him by Sapnap as a birthday present. Back then, his friend had had barely enough resources to get by, but he had always been skilled at making weapons and he knew Dream had wanted a hunting knife for quite some time.The beauty of the knife was a testament to Sapnap’s skill and patience, but also of his unbreakable bond with Dream. Even now, the knife filled him with bittersweet memories of days long past, swimming in the lake by the community house and lounging on the large grassy fields nearby, laughter bubbling in their throats and their stomachs filled with the cake they had spent the morning baking.

The afternoon had only gotten better once the brown haired boy had appeared on the hill just beside theirs. His large white glasses had rested lightly on his head and he was crouched in the grass, picking flowers to add to the ones already in his arms.

Dream had spotted him first, with Sapnap following his stare only moments later. It had taken the boy a while to notice his audience, and had been startled so bad he had dropped the bundles of flowers carefully collected in the crook of his arm. They had started at each other for a moment and then, despite his best effort, a smile had crawled its way onto Dream’s face. Soon thereafter a peel of laughter began tearing its way out of his chest and it soon infected Sapnap, who had been raising a hand in greeting.

The boy seemed shy, afraid to get too close at first, but soon joining in the laughter while bending down to pick up the fallen plants. Before Sapnap could stop him, Dream had gotten up and jogged over to the boy, helping him recollect himself.

“Hey”, Dream had ventured. “I’m Dream.”

He had extended a timid hand in the boy’s direction, minimally afraid the boy would just walk away without another word.

The stranger’s brown eyes lingered on his hand for a moment, then rose to scan Dream’s green ones. A smile had crept onto his lips as well as he extended his own hand.

“George”

The meadow had seemed to glow in that moment. A honey-coated promise of the start of something far more important than a birthday. He had closed his eyes and felt the warm breeze of the air ruffle his hair as Sapnap’s timid greetings filled his ears. It had been one of the best moments of his life. He could almost taste the honey and dew of those summer days before he drifted off to sleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------

A ruthless tug jerked Dream awake from memories of his friends’ laughter. Jolting upright, he realized he had fallen asleep on his chair, and his muscles screamed at him for the oversight of not sleeping in a bed like a normal person. The stiffness, however, quickly dissipated when his attention gravitated towards the tethered connection between him and Nightmare shaking violently, a silent summon.

_Fuck._

Dream’s mind began racing as he scrambled to his feet, dropping the pearl-hilted knife he was still clutching from the night before. He could feel the anger building on the other side of the tether even through the fog that the obsidian mercifully granted him. He knew Nightmare’s restlessness was caused by that very obscurity of the bridge, of reaching out and not being able to sense his counterpart’s location with the usual ease.

Frantically he pushed himself out of the obsidian room, feeling the tether solidifying as Night inevitably drew closer, the obsidian barrier no longer weakening their connection. He would be found in the basement. Alone. At 5 in the morning. A Hail Mary plan invaded Dream’s thoughts and before he could debate over its success rate he felt the air freeze. Standing in the middle of the ale cellar, he watched as Nightmare’s tendrils of shadow creeped into the room. The stench of the rotting fruit filled the space between them.

Before his shadow could fully take in the sight before him, Dream busied himself with the stupidest plan he had ever come up with, turning away and heading over to a shelf lined with ale barrels.

_Morning sunshine._

Dream had heard the voice hundreds of times, and yet he had to suppress a wince as he opened the closest barrel. With feigned disinterest, Dream half-turned to Nightmare.

“Hey”, Dream cleared his throat. “What do you want?”

Dream cursed himself silently; _too rash._

_Well aren’t we in a mood today._ The tension in Dream’s voice had clearly not escaped his counterpart who wasted no time in pointing out the elephant in the room Dream had so desperately tried to drown.

_Is your sour attitude, I wonder, the reason I couldn’t feel you?_

As Dream turned to fully look at Nightmare he could see no trace of the usual sneer on his face, his eyes burning with black intensity as he studied Dream’s clothes— the same as yesterday. Dream could see gears grinding and calculating in Night’s mind, and desperate to stop whatever possible conclusion he would reach, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“Maybe you’re just losing your touch.”

Dream held his breath as Night surveyed him thoughtfully, eyes unreadable. An incalculable amount of time later, his shadow’s mouth cracked and a high pitched laugh filled the room. Dream breath slowly escaped his lung’s hold as he strained to not bring his hands up to shield his ears from the sound. It could have broken glass.

_Perhaps so…_ Night’s eyes glinted in his direction once more before turning and surveying the room more closely.

Again, Dream was hasty to divert the attention back to him, lest his companion’s eyes wander too far in the wrong direction.

“I- I came down here to check on the ale…”, Dream stuttered. As an afterthought he hoped wasn’t too out of place, he added, “I know you love it.”

Night’s eyes drifted back lazily over to Dream’s figure, pinning it against the shelves. It had been the wrong thing to say, because Nightmare’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

_You began fermenting these crates a week ago, Dream._

Dream’s blood turned cold as he waited for Night’s next words.

_They’re not due for another week._

Nightmare stilled, and the air turned electric like it always did when he started using more of his power. It singed Dream’s nerves and he suddenly had a gut-wrenching thought.

As Nightmare continued his scan of the room, Dream snuck the briefest glance towards the wall to his right. With a jolt of horror, Dream saw the ale shelves sitting skewed against the wall, and a crack of obsidian peeking out from behind it. His lungs began screaming for air as he realized he hadn’t been breathing, and forced himself to take a quiet breath while running scenarios through his mind.

He was fairly sure Night couldn’t see the crack from the other side of the room, but if he ventured closer to him—

Hesitating only briefly, he grabbed the wooden cup of ale he had poured moments before and crossed the room to stand before Nightmare. Before his shadow could fully process his actions, Dream shoved the cup right under his nose, letting the smell waft into his nose.

“I know, but try it! It actually might be better like this.”

The smell must have been very pungent indeed, because Nightmare jerked backwards so violently he slammed into the opposite wall of the room.

_For fuck’s sake Dream,_ he spat, hatred consuming his eyes.

“S-sorry, I just thought-“, Dream tried.

_I don’t_ care _, imbecile. Get that shit out of my face._

“Right, sorry.” Dream apologized again, turning quickly so Night couldn’t see the creeping smirk on his face.

Sure enough, by the time Dream had emptied the cup back into the barrel, Nightmare was already on the threshold of the room, impatiently waiting for him to exit the foul-smelling cellar.

As carelessly as he could, Dream made his way over to the storage room’s entrance, lightly stepping through. His pulse had barely steadied when a hand shot across his chest, freezing him where he stood. Sudden panic gripped his chest as he turned to look at his shadow once more. A sneer was imprinted on his lips, eyes darting up to look at him for the briefest of moments.

_Just— one last thing._

An explosion shook the room, splintering every barrel and wooden shelf that lined the ale room. Liquid pooled at their feet, but Dream barely noticed. As Nightmare lowered his outstretched hand to survey the carnage he had caused, his eyes drifted to the one place Dream pleaded they wouldn’t.

A large, ugly gash in the stone marred the wall to their left, bashfully prominent against the lighter coloration of the chamber’s walls. Nightmare’s steps were silent through the sticky, wet floor of the room.

Dream frantically scrambled for words, any excuse he could fabricate within the few heartbeats it would take Nightmare to reach his sanctuary. He felt a dull sense of deja-vu.

Nightmare reached the fissure in the wall and peered within, the ever-burning glow of the blue torches illuminating his pale features. A black, clawed hand reached up to graze the edge of the obsidian.

“Night, I—“, Dream stuttered. “I can- I can explain.”

Nightmare turned to look at him, a movement so cold and precise it froze the words nervously bubbling in his throat. His mind blanked.

From the depths of the shadows coating him, Night materialized 3 large bricks of red explosives. They gleamed dangerously in his hands.

“N-no, wait please, it’s not what you th-“ Dream’s throat closed entirely as Nightmare carelessly tossed the three sticks inside, watching thoughtfully as the explosion caused a flurry of papers and dust to jettison from the crack in the wall. The burning sheets of paper struck the ale-covered floor and flames erupted mercilessly in the room. They coated everything, feeding on stray pieces of wood from the first explosion of the morning and the carefully collected pieces of Dream’s old life. Months of planning, rare manuscripts and hundreds of pages of notes and questions; destroyed in seconds. He was dimly aware flames had started licking at his clothes as well, but fire didn’t hurt him anymore anyway. Something in him cracked.

Falling to his knees, he screamed louder than he had ever dared at the twisting mass of shadows staring dangerously at him from across the room.

“WHY?”, Dream’s breath was coming in large gasps, the smoke filling his lungs and clogging his mind. He continued nonetheless.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU LET ME KEEP THAT ONE PART OF MY LIFE?”, tears were stinging the corners of his eyes, rage sending wave after wave of tremors through his body.

The cold in Night’s eyes could have quelled every fire in that room as he stared at Dream with malignant delight.

_Why, Dream? Really?_ A mocked look of annoyance marred his features. _Must you be so incessantly stupid?_

He was across the room before Dream realized how much he had upset his shadow. A hand descended upon the back of his neck, claws digging maliciously into his skin, causing trickles of blood to run down his back. Dream gasped at the first hint of physical pain he had experienced in months, eyes flying open.

_Let me remind you,_ Nightmare sneered, a dangerous fire sparking in his black eyes.

Dream felt the floor go out from under them as Night melded them both into the shadows. He felt himself be torn in a million directions at once while remaining helplessly trapped in the cold clawed grip at they tumbled through space.

Not a moment later, Dream felt the claws exit his neck and he cried out from the scraping against his wounds. He tumbled to the floor once more, hands seeking purchase wherever they could. However, instead of the sticky, ale-covered floor he had been previously kneeling on, his hands slammed into hard white marble. The pungent odor of the rotting ale was gone, replaced by cool morning air. No. No, no, no he couldn’t face this right now.

_Get up._

Dream refused, not willing to accept where Nightmare had materialized them to. With a grunt of annoyance, Nightmare grabbed a fist full of his hair, jerking his head upwards to take in the chamber before them.

It was a small circular room, perhaps the size of a sleeping chamber. Lined all around the walls were tall intricate archways that allowed for a view onto the snowy landscape beyond. The vantage point was the highest in the Mountain Palace, and Dream’s eyes raked over the snowcapped peaks in the distance, eager to avoid what resided in the center of the room. Drapes framing the archways gently swayed in the wind.

Sensing hesitation, Nightmare shoved him to his feet and dragged him forwards.

Despite his best efforts, Dream’s eyes slowly gravitated towards the large altar resting before them. It was exquisitely crafted, made of white quartz and shimmering in the morning sunlight. For all Dream cared it could have been made of rotting wood. His eyes raked across the engravings in the sides of the altar, before inevitably settling on the figure laid on top of it.

His breath hitched and he felt the familiar jolt of horror flood his nerves.

Nightmare scoffed and released him, sauntering over to an archway. Dream stumbled numbly forwards to grip the side of the altar as he stared at the face of the sleeping figure in front of him, knuckles turning white from the strain. A faint purple barrier hovered between Dream and the body, shimmering quietly in protection. He raised a hand to graze at it, only succeeding in sending a small ripple over the force field. He watched the patterns warp the face below.

“Please”, Dream breathed. As Nightmare lazily turned to regard him, he continued. “He has done nothing. People must know he’s missing-“

_People,_ his shadow spat, _believe exactly what I want them to believe._

Nightmare studied him thoughtfully, a hint of amusement lining his features.

_They’ll believe anything; sleeping in, laziness, social anxiety— ironic if you think about it. They preach the importance of being united and protecting each other as if it were the most important thing in the world. Yet they would accept the smallest excuses when it comes to someone they don’t care about._

Dream was barely listening. His eyes raked over every plane and angle of the figure’s face, drinking it in as if he had been deprived of the sight for years. The white glasses rested lightly on the boy’s brown hair.

A shiver ran down Dream’s back as he felt Nightmare’s presence return to his side, lips inches from his ear.

_You asked me why Dream?_ He whispered, the smile on his lips accenting his words. _Because I can. Because I know your greatest weakness._

Nightmare’s claws raked against the shimmering field encompassing the body.

_And I hold it in the palm of my hand._

Dream’s knees finally gave out and he crumpled to the ground, hands shaking and tears already slipping past his defenses. Without a sound, Nightmare vanished from the room as quickly as he had materialized, leaving Dream’s trembling figure grasping at the barrier around George’s sleeping figure.


	3. Sand

Dream awoke to faint whispering and a slab of ice digging into his back. He had fallen asleep leaning against the side of the altar and his body was determined to punish him for his poor choice of positioning. He felt glued in place, back pressed against the beautiful designs carved into the marble and limbs feeling like they had been disconnected from his mind.

Drafts of icy air grazed his skin, cruelly reminding him he had fallen asleep surrounded by glacial snow-capped peaks; beautiful, but mercilessly cold. He supposed it was the perfect place to preserve someone in a sleeping spell from which, as far as he knew, might never awaken.

Slowly, he attempted opening his eyes and was met with sudden resistance, keeping his eyelids firmly in place. Taken aback, he gingerly brought a hand to his face and felt small flecks of ice and salt against his fingers, coating his cheeks and the corners of his eyes.

_Did I cry?,_ he thought, just barely numb enough from grief and trauma to not care.

He began inching his other limbs across the floor, hoping to reestablish a semblance of blood flow through his body, while scratching away the crust that had gathered on his face. He tore open his eyes.

Faint rays of golden light kissed the room, falling around Dream’s sitting figure and making his armor and weapons gleam almost blindingly. The sun had just begun rising over the mountain range surrounding him and the sky was clearer than it had been in days. Dreading the sight at his shoulders, he stared ahead, accepting temporary defeat and letting his body rest a moment longer.

After Nightmare had left the tower he had let himself go, numbly drifting off to sleep grasping for George and listening to the lullaby the cold winds had whispered in his ears. Based on the position of the sun he guessed he had been sleeping only a few hours— not that it made any difference on the perpetual tiredness his body had grown accustomed to.

He granted himself a few more moments of peace before finally rising to his feet and turning around.

Safe as ever tucked in his purple shimmering cocoon, George’s sleeping figure swam in Dream’s eyes, demolishing every last bit of mental strength Dream had built up. He quickly looked away before his mind had any more time to develop emotions he didn’t want to deal with.

Desperate for a distraction, Dream peered across the mental bridge separating his and Nightmare’s souls. Swirls of thoughts and emotions radiated from the other side, muffled by the mental wall Nightmare retreated behind when he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Anxiety began seeping in at the edges of Dream’s mind, thoughts already racing in a desperate attempt to predict whatever Nightmare might be planning next.

His conscious thoughts must have clearly been too loud, because the slack line between their two minds was suddenly pulled taut.

_Good morning Dreamie,_ a voice crooned, echoing far too loudly in Dream’s still groggy mind.

_Sleep well?_

Despite his best efforts, Dream grimaced. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten more than a few hours of sleep and suddenly craved the soft sheets of his bed a few floors below. The dull throb in his back become infinitely less bearable at the prospect of the barely used soft wool mattress.

The sultry voice laughed jeeringly, amused at Dream’s lack of control over his thoughts.

_Aw,_ a mock hurt expression flashed across the connection.

_But I have such a fun day planned for us today._ The smirk was loud enough to be heard through the uncomfortably tight line from Dream’s mind to Nightmare’s.

“So, would you like me to jump off the side of the balcony to get down, or shall I sprout wings and fly over to you?”, Dream snarked, bitterly glancing at the lack of doors on the walls around him.

_Oh Dream,_ the voice preened. _How I love our witty banter._

“Fucker.”

Dream barely had time to prepare himself for the sickening feeling he knew was coming, before Nightmare yanked the already impossibly tight connection between them hard.

Blackness slid into Dream’s vision and he tumbled through space unbearably fast, mind swimming in pain and eyes catching flashes of light every so often. Not a moment later he slammed into the hardwood floor of the second floor library.

Of all the places in the Mountain Lair, the library was one of Dream’s favorites— and possibly the most dangerous. Nightmare spent the majority of his time perusing the infinitely tall bookshelves and pouring over maps coating the walls not taken up by books, always making sure to protect the manuscripts in spells so Dream couldn’t access them. _Who knew a nether demon could be possessive of classical literature?,_ he had mused, after receiving a particularly potent shock upon reaching for a book the first time. Not that he would have been able to decipher the strange symbols they were written in anyway. 

Rightening himself, Dream allowed the warmth of the library to warm his insides and loosen his still somewhat stiff joints. The smell of old books that wafted in the air succeeded in minimally calming his nerves— enough, at least, to allow him to utter a bitter retort.

“You’d think you’d be a bit more careful with your only companion in this godforsaken fortress.”

Dream’s recent awakening had dampened his snarkiness, but it was quickly losing its hold on his attitude, probably provoking Nightmare way more than was good for him. Dream’s eyes flashed quickly as he scanned the grand space for his shadow.

Even if the sight of a demon calmly scribbling notes over maps and charts had been a bland one, the myriad of open books floating in the air surrounding him would have piqued almost anyone’s interest.

Tendrils of black shadows extended gracefully from Nightmare’s standing figure, supporting at least two dozen books in mid-air. Every so often his careful eyes would graze over the writing in them, dismissing the ones he deemed useless with a wave of his hand and drawing important ones closer at the slightest movement of his fingers. The black writing that covered pages upon pages in front of him was careful, infinitely precise, with every pen stroke carrying as much deadly accuracy as Dream’s axe in battle. Somehow, it made Dream all the more wary of witnessing Nightmare in an actual fight.

Sparing no glance at Dream, Nightmare turned around to look at the map behind him. The map that had hung Dream’s small sanctuary paled in comparison to the sheer massiveness of Nightmare’s. It extended far beyond the lands Dream had visited, marking territories and bodies of water he had never even heard of. Yet, an extensive understanding of cartography and geographical landmarks would still not have aided whatsoever in deciphering the strange writing the map was written in, reserving any relevant information for Nightmare’s eyes only.

Dream could feel his shadow’s thoughts convulsing and taking shape, sprinkled with malignant delight and a hunger for power he didn’t think he would ever get used to living near. Dream doubted Nightmare had heard a single thing he had said since his arrival at the library.

_Come here._ The command rang sharp, filling and overwhelming Dream’s mind so potently that he didn’t fully realize he had moved until he was standing in the midst of the smoky tendrils next to Nightmare.

Somewhat dizzy, Dream glanced at the closest sheet of paper on the mahogany table sprawling before them. His brows furrowed in confusion, warning bells screaming at the back of his mind as his eyes raked over the images.

Configuration upon configuration of what appeared to be obsidian grids coated the sheets, elaborate writing evaluating efficiency and lists of required materials lining the edges. Dream’s breath hitched as his eyes settled on a circled part of the diagrams and understanding sank like a stone to the bottom of his stomach as he recognized the familiar weapon.

He felt Nightmare’s curious gaze on him long before he deigned to turn around and meet it. Dream’s eyes scoured in vain for any shred of dignity or indication as to why his counterpart would resort to this level of destruction.

“What are you doing?” Dream’s voice shook more than he would have liked, but panic had quickly established an unrelenting grip over him and was intent on not letting go.

Night’s eyes searched him, teasing him, daring him to speak and break the thick tension between them. The blackness of Nightmare’s stare was overwhelming, threatening to drown him and snuff out the small light still burning somewhere inside of Dream. He swayed faintly on his feet and reached a hand behind him to steady himself. It was too much.

Sensing his change in demeanor, Nightmare’s face contorted into a slow smile.

_What,_ Nightmare murmured amusedly. _You thought I was just out to mess with 16 year-olds and play Sleeping Beauty with your dearest?_

Nightmare stepped closer to Dream’s leaning figure, enveloping him in cold shadows and filling the air around them with pungent sweetness.

_Have you honestly not figured out what I truly want, Dream?_ Part of the sarcasm and mockery had dripped from Nightmare’s tone and Dream could have sworn he saw something like desperation quickly flash behind his shadow’s dark eyes. Mere seconds later it was replaced with sadistic pleasure and twin burning fires. Dream waited, trapped in his gaze, dreading Nightmare’s next words.

_Pain._

Despite himself, Dream flinched. Nightmare smirked, barely missing a beat. The words seemed to taste delicious on his lips.

_And tell me,_ Nightmare morphed his face into one of mock deliberation. _How much pain do you think I could create by destroying an entire city?_

The eye contact was too much. Glancing down, Dream murmured, “L’Manberg”.

_Mmmh,_ Nightmare hummed drawing back to his map, the smile ever present on his lips, twisted and malignant. _So he finally catches on._

Dream’s mind was furiously working, eyes skimming over the plans Nightmare had been meticulously writing down.

“This much TNT.. it’ll-“

_Break bedrock?_ Savage pleasure coated Night’s features as the idea filled him. Dream could feel the sheer delight as if it were his own. He studied his shadow’s plans a moment longer before a thought occurred to him.

“We have extensive resources, but this much TNT… It’s-it’s insane Night, forget it.”

Nightmare’s eyes followed Dream’s to rest on the 6-digit number scrawled neatly next to the diagrams.

_Yes I suppose we do need some more supplies… Well, you better get started._

Dream blinked.

“I’m- I’m sorry?”

Nightmare’s shrill laugh coated the library in ice, dousing the warm flames burning in the grand fireplace on the far wall.

_Well, as you said,_ his eyes twinkled. _It is a rather large sum of explosives, and I am far too busy to concern myself with collecting sand._ A sickly sweet smile coated his expression .

“You- ARE YOU INSANE?” Dream snapped out of his reverie moments later as Nightmare started pouring over his books once again. “Collecting that many resources would take me-“

_No longer than a day I expect,_ Nightmare snapped, impatience slowly pooling in his words. _The beach a few miles east of here should be sufficient,_ he added as an afterthought.

“No.”

Nightmare’s hands stopped their careful movements over the pages of his books.

_Excuse me?_ Nightmare’s voice had taken a dangerous tone, sucking the little remaining warmth out of the room and making Dream infinitely colder than he had been earlier that morning in the tower. He shivered, and when he spoke his voice was little more than a whisper despite his confrontational diction.

“I’m done b-being your little slave. I won’t let you-“

A blink. That was all it took for Dream’s back to be pressed against the far wall, dangling a few feet above the ground with his axe digging painfully between his shoulder blades. A gasp of pain escaped his lips as he tried to refocus his eyes on Nightmare’s quickly approaching figure.

_I have tried to be patient with you Dream,_ his voice inflected dangerously over his name, condescension dripping over every syllable. _But even my patience has limits._

Dream felt the grip on his body tighten as the air was sucked from his lungs.

_Despite what you may think, I have made life fairly simple for you. This,_ he accentuated, as Dream felt a sharp shard of ice pierce the space between his eyes. Black spots swam into his vision as pain stole his voice and left him gasping for air.

_This is barely scratching the surface of the pain I can cause you._ Eyes burning with malice he added, _And you should know better than anyone that physical pain is not the only kind there is._

Dream was quickly losing feeling in his limbs as he diverted all of his energy into moving his mouth to answer without screaming.

_So, Dream, you ARE my slave. And you WILL do what I ask of you because even though I have said it about a million times now, I hold your most prized possession in the palm of my hand._

“George- ah- is not an object.” Dream spoke through gritted teeth, but his eyes burned with more fire than Nightmare had seen in weeks. A cackle filled the room, delighted at the sudden spite in his play-thing.

_You are powerless Dream,_ Nightmare seethed, slowly loosening his grip on the boy helplessly pinned against the shelves.

_And unless you want George’s screams to lull you to sleep at night, I suggest you get your ass to the beach._

Dream’s knees buckled as he hit the ground hard, but he managed to find purchase along the bookshelves Nightmare had been holding him against. His head felt coated in mud and his stomach was ready to dry-heave the nothing he had eaten in the last few days.

Shaking slightly, Dream slowly walked back through the entrance of the library, dread pooling in his gut and Nightmare’s eyes trained firmly on him, shimmering in savage delight.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“A few miles away” had been a gross understatement. It took Dream nearly the rest of the morning before he caught his first glimpse of the long expanse of white land stretching out miles into the distance. Tiny grains of sand sparkled against the noon sun like a million diamonds, continuously rearranged by the ebb and flow of waves that lapped across the beach.

Dream inhaled the sweet smell of salt and sea spray, so different from the icy claws of the wind in the mountains and felt memories rush through him faster than he could stop them. A million moments brushed against his conscious thoughts, but it was the most painful one he always kept locked away that finally broke through.

It had been mere hours after his encounter with the compass in that distant part of the hell dimension. Dream had stumbled half-blind out of the nether portal and collapsed onto the sand of the neighboring beach, breath coming in quick bursts and eyes scanning the waves for answers to questions he couldn’t even formulate. So lost had he been in his panic, he hadn’t heard the soft footsteps sinking into the sand behind him until a hand had touched his shoulder.

“Dream?”

The accented words immediately quieted Dream’s frantic heart, and his eyes shut at the sudden peace that enveloped his thoughts. He shifted his eyes upwards to look at the brown haired boy’s worried expression looming over him.

“George”, he breathed.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been in the nether for hours, Sapnap and I thought-” His eyebrows furrowed in concern, not breaking eye contact, while frantically searching him for signs of injury.

“I’m fine, George. Really.” Dream’s interruption carried a curt, foreign tone he rarely ever used, and something flashed behind George’s eyes, marring his face in confusion.

_Get rid of him._

Dream’s head instantly grew heavy, and his vision blurred ever so slightly. The four little words bounced around his head, echoing and gaining momentum with each passing second. His grip on consciousness was ebbing at an alarming rate.

_Leave._

“W-What?”

It took seeing the pain shine across George’s eyes for Dream to realize he had uttered the words out loud.

“N-no, I meant, I-“, Dream stammered, desperately trying to remember when he had moved his mouth to speak in the first place.

George’s expression was a quickly alternating combination of cold calculation and concerned confusion for the shaking boy in front of him.

“Dream… did something happen in the nether?” George’s eyes were the only thing keeping Dream upright, the ground impossibly unsteady beneath him. A shaky breath left his lips before he could answer.

“No. I mean yes. I don’t know, I—”, Dream tried.

_Get rid of him._

“Dream, it’s ok.” George inched closer. 

_Do it._

“I can help you.”

_NOW._

“I can—”

“JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, GEORGE.”

George flinched. Slowly, his eyes lowered to the object in Dream’s hand, hovering dangerously close to his throat. Confused, Dream followed George’s gaze until he settled on the axe pressed loosely to George’s neck. Hands shaking, he blinked. He could barely even remember standing from his crouched position in the cool sand, much less reaching around to grab his weapon.

The fear in George’s eyes quickly morphed into something unrecognizable as Dream dropped the axe he was holding and clutched the offending hand as if it no longer belonged to him. Eyes unmovably fixed on his hand, Dream’s breath quickened exponentially until his vision was swimming with black splotches around the edges. He felt his legs stumble him backwards a few steps, before finally lifting his gaze to meet George’s eyes.

“George, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

_Didn’t mean what?_

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

_But you did, didn’t you?_

“No, I—”

Dream’s breath was impossibly fast as he looked up to see George’s hands outstretched, approaching Dream like one would a wild animal so as not to frighten them. A moment later Dream was running faster than he ever had towards the nearby forest, barely aware of George’s quickly fading calls. He had collapsed into darkness, his mind going numb as he experienced someone else entirely take control of his body for the first time. He had awoken hours later, miles and miles away from home and more alone than he had ever thought possible.

As the memory released its grip on Dream, a cold wash of bitterness swept through him, the sight of George’s concerned eyes on him permanently printed on the back of his retinas. While he now understood what had happened far better, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of crippling hate for his shadow who had so callously robbed him of a proper goodbye. Days later Nightmare had brought him to the high tower for the first time to show him George’s encapsulated sleeping figure, much to Dream’s quiet horror. It felt like one big hallucination. _Or rather, nightmare,_ he corrected himself bitterly.

Already dreading the journey back, Dream extracted his shovel from his pack and drove it into the closest pile of sand, feeling the granules shift easily around the metal, allowing it to sink deep underground. Numbly, he drove the shovel upwards, collecting the first block of a thousand.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The hours passed by lazily, the rays of the sun burning Dream’s back and arms, scorching him only for the red skin to heal itself moments later. Not that he particularly paid attention to it anyway. Thousands of memories swarmed his mind, never giving him a moment’s rest or even the decency of quiet numbness. Moments, places, feelings, but most of all faces. The ones that haunted him in his sleep and made it impossible to look himself in the mirror every morning, imagining what kind of monster they must have seen in his eyes for their faces to morph into ones of such horror.

Eventually, when the sun decided to sink close to the ground, kissing the waters and turning them a vibrant pink, Dream collected his final piece of sand. For a moment, he considered sleeping on the beach for the night, lulled to sleep by the quiet crash of the waves against the now destroyed terrain. The idea was quickly discarded at the prospect of leaving Nightmare alone to his schemes for even just one night.

With heavy steps, Dream reentered the thick forest surrounding the beach, leaving yet another place completely in ruins behind him.

The night fell quickly, wrapping him in darkness and erasing all memories of scalding sunlight that had burned him all afternoon. The moon was just beginning to wan, shining a soft trail of light on the surrounding canopies and sparkling off of netherite armor. Dream marveled at the silent beauty of it all, and eventually lost himself to the sights of sleeping birds in nests and the quiet whispers leaves made when they brushed against him.

Hours later, he caught a glimpse of the mountain, standing sturdy as ever, welcoming him home. Then he felt it.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how the hell he had missed it until right then.

The mental tether he shared with Nightmare was on fire, shaking violently from effort and strain. His eyes flew open at the strange sensation as he glanced up at the giant stone monument in front of him. Anxiety electrified his veins as the hair on the back of his neck stood up straight, every nerve in his body telling him how inexplicably wrong the situation felt.

After being numbly wrapped in quiet darkness for so long, his mind took a moment to realize he had started sprinting at full speed towards the giant stone doors at the foot of the mountain. Crashing into the wall, he slammed his hand to the stone, slipping through the sliding doors and thundering down the grand entrance. His footsteps rebounded along the tall arches, echoing and multiplying like ripples in a pond.

Never before had his tether to Nightmare been so vibrantly imprinted against his consciousness. Like moth drawn to a roaring fire, Dream easily followed the strings tied around his soul up flight after flight of stairs, finally reaching a small room he scarcely remembered making at the very top of the fortress. The fire in his skull almost painfully unbearable, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Nightmare was hunched over someone sprawled on a table, clawed hands tightly wrapped around its head and body wracked with tremors from the strain Dream clearly felt emanating from across their tether. Shocked at seeing his shadow so vulnerable, it took him a surprisingly long moment longer to realize the figure on the table was George, impossibly vulnerable without the shiny purple barrier wrapped around him.

Dream lunged forward, barely stopping to think exactly what it was he was hoping to accomplish. He reached the edge of the table a moment later shoving himself roughly between Nightmare and George, breaking the already unstable connection between the two and succeeding in quelling the fire still burning through his veins. His axe resettled uneasily on his back, briefly catching on something.

A sharp hiss sounded from his shadow, who barely spared him a glance before bringing a hand to his cheek and abruptly turning away to face the wall. Dream blinked, wondering if he had imagined the smear of red that had flashed on his shadow’s face in the time it had taken him to turn. Never had Nightmare acted vulnerable, much less… hurt? He briefly glanced down at himself to see what could have caused such a reaction before realizing he didn’t actually care. Wasting not a moment longer, he turned to look at George’s face below him.

His eyes quickly settled on a small gash on his cheek, from which blood had begun to flower against his pale skin. He distantly remembered the axe on his back hitting something in his desperate attempt to interrupt whatever connection Nightmare had been establishing and realized that “something” must have been George. Guilt pooled low in his gut, then quickly dissipated as he watched the cut begin to knit itself together ever so slowly. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief, lightly placing his fingers on the boy’s face, smearing the little blood that had already escaped onto George’s face.

Before he could do anything else, the impenetrable purple barrier exploded back into place, propelling Dream’s hand back with unnecessary force. Dream’s head snapped around just in time to see Nightmare’s eyes travel from George’s face, to Dream’s body, disdain ardently burning in his eyes. As quickly as it appeared, the black fire in Nightmare’s eyes quieted, settling into one of forced laxness as he held Dream’s gaze with his own.

_Well look who’s back._ For the first time ever, Dream noted, he sounded somewhat winded.

Ignoring the strange behavior Nightmare was clearly trying to mask, Dream proceeded to ask the only other burning inquiry flashing though his mind.

“What the hell did you do to him?”

Nightmare’s posture relaxed minimally, tension ebbing away as he leaned back against the wall and regarded him with contentness.

_Simply had a little look into his head. Turns out he’s not just a pretty face after all._

Something about his choice of words chilled Dream to the core, but before he could press for more information as to why Nightmare would ever risk lowering George’s protective cocoon, his shadow pushed off the wall and headed for the door.

_Unpack. We need to take a little… road trip, if you will._

Dream could barely contain the retort already on his lips. Nightmare must have sensed it because he glanced over his shoulder expectantly. Dream decided to not give him the satisfaction.

“And where, pray tell, will we be traveling to this fine evening?” He spoke through gritted teeth, coating his words in as much venom as possible.

Nightmare’s own teeth gleamed pearly white as he morphed his lips into a smile. The sight made Dream want to run.

_I’d say it’s about time we finally paid Techno a visit, wouldn’t you?_


End file.
